The fake smiles and hypocritical faces made it hard for me to breathe, so I left the party and went for a walk alone in the garden.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of high heels clicking behind me.

I stopped and turned around to find that Lilia had followed me.

Since there were only the two of us in the garden, she immediately dropped her act.

With a smug smile, she began boasting about how she had made Giovanni call off his engagement with just a few tears, and how she had made the powerful Corleone completely obsessed with her.

"The childhood sweetheart you loved so dearly, and the husband you adore, are both crazy about me.

"Corleone personally gave me the design sketches for that ring set. So what if you know the truth now, though? You're just a pathetic woman nobody cares about."

Then she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"You want to know something? One of those rings is on my finger. The other one is with your husband."

She smirked.

"You're just like your dead mother. Your husband abandoned you just like how your father abandoned her. The two of you are nothing but losers!"

I couldn't take it anymore and raised my hand to slap her.

However, before my hand could land, Lilia suddenly let out a scream and threw herself backward.

Her head struck a flowerpot beside her, and blood immediately trickled down her forehead.

Tears filled her eyes at once as she spoke in a trembling voice.

"Isabella, I know you don't like me, but how could you push me?"

The guests rushed into the garden.

As they gathered around us, they looked at me with undisguised contempt.

"Oh my God, call a doctor!"

"Isabella is so vicious. She must be jealous that her sister won the design competition!"

Corleone and Giovanni pushed through the crowd.

"Move!" Giovanni immediately shoved me aside. "Lilia is pregnant! Isabella, how could you push her?"

The force of the shove made me stumble and fall to the ground.

Just then, Corleone hurried over. He quickly helped me to my feet and raised his pistol at Giovanni.

"My wife is not someone you get to lecture."

For a moment, I almost believed he cared about me.

Giovanni glared at him. "But she pushed Lilia!"

Corleone froze.

Then, with a single sentence, he shattered my illusion.

"Lilia is pregnant. Isabella, you shouldn't have hurt her at a time like this. Apologize to her."

I looked at Corleone, speechless.

He didn't know that I was pregnant, too.

Wanting it to be a surprise, I had planned to tell him on our wedding anniversary. But now, I didn't want to anymore.

Curled up in Giovanni's arms, Lilia cried pitifully and complained that her stomach hurt.

Corleone immediately turned to look at her.

For the first time, I saw the concern and panic in his eyes that he had never shown me before.

In the end, he didn't spare me another glance and said coldly, "Mrs. Corleone is tired. Take her back to her room to rest. She is not to leave without my permission."

Those icy words severed the last shred of hope I had left.

I watched through the window as Corleone and Giovanni carefully helped Lilia into a car through the confines of the bedroom I shared with Corleone.

The way Corleone looked at her was as if they were a loving couple.

A sharp pain twisted through my lower abdomen, pulling me back to reality.

The fall had hurt my baby.

I gently placed a hand over my stomach.

"Just hold on a little longer. I'll take you away from here very soon."

I walked over to the bed, picked up my phone, and called my private doctor.

Since he owed me a favor, half an hour later, he arrived at my room carrying his medical bag.

After a thorough examination, he said, "Mrs. Corleone, your fall caused fetal distress. Combined with the emotional shock you've been under, that's what's causing the abdominal pain."

He took some medication from his bag and handed it to me.

"You must be careful not to get hurt again."

I took it and set it on the table.

"For now, don't tell anyone that I'm pregnant."

The doctor nodded and left with his medical bag.

During the two days I was confined to my room, Corleone never showed up once.

Using my phone, I contacted my assistant and instructed him to sell my clothes, handbags, and jewelry under my name as quickly as possible.

Some of the staff reported my actions to Corleone, but he simply assumed I was throwing a tantrum.

On the third night, the eve of our wedding anniversary, Corleone finally returned.

Holding a bowl of parfait, he came to coax me as he always did.

When he saw my swollen eyes, a trace of concern flashed across his face.

"As long as you're obedient, you'll always be the lady of this family. You'll always be Mrs. Corleone."

I looked at him and mocked him coldly.

"I'm just a tool to you, aren't I?"

Assuming I was about to speak badly about Lilia again, Corleone immediately cut me off.

"You're being jealous again.

"You pushed Lilia, so I had no choice but to stay at the hospital these past few days to take care of her and make up for what you did."

Just then, his phone rang.

He didn't even try to hide it from me when he answered.

"What? Your stomach is bothering you again? I'll be right there."

With that, he set down the parfait and left.

I stared at the closed door. Not a single tear had fallen.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from my assistant.

[Miss Isabella, everything has been sold.]

The time to leave had come.

Late that night, I removed the wedding ring from my finger, the symbol of a five-year joke, and left it inside the safe together with a signed divorce agreement.

Then I uploaded a scheduled video to Instagram and tossed my phone into a corner of the room.

I sent the maid at my door away, telling her I wanted her to grind me a cup of coffee before picking up the lighter from the table.

With that, I set fire to the curtains and bedsheets.

The flames spread rapidly.

Calmly, I watched everything that belonged to "Mrs. Corleone" burn in the fire.

I changed into a housekeeper's uniform and put on a cap. While everyone in the estate was busy putting out the fire, I slipped out through the back door.

At that very moment, Corleone was at the hospital, taking care of Lilia.

He was peeling an apple when a sudden pain twisted through his chest.

The fruit knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Irritated, he yanked at his tie.

His underboss rushed into the hospital room, panic written all over his face.

"Don Corleone, something terrible has happened… Mrs. Corleone's room caught fire..."

"And Mrs. Corleone..."

Corleone's face instantly turned pale. For the first time, he felt a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Corleone, I need you here. Don't go. Just send your men to look for Isabella."

Lilia grabbed him tightly.

For once, he shook off her hand without the slightest hesitation, completely ignoring her startled cry.

Then he rushed out of the hospital room like a madman and sped back to the estate.